


Twas the Fight Before Winter's Crest

by StarllingWrites



Series: Crit Role Narrative Telephone Poems [10]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Holidays, narrative telephone, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarllingWrites/pseuds/StarllingWrites
Summary: Based on Laura's Round 2 of Narrative Telephone, which aired 12/15/2020
Series: Crit Role Narrative Telephone Poems [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744534
Kudos: 9





	Twas the Fight Before Winter's Crest

**Author's Note:**

> So when I saw the first trailer for this ep and realized Laura did a poem, I was like, "Great. I can't make a poem for a poem. Am I gonna have to make a story for this instead?" But then my partner suggested continuing the poem from where Jester leaves off, so that's what this is.

The Mighty Nein exchanged glances—who was this portly new foe?

They don’t wait to inquire, least of all Veth and Beau.  
  


With a classic _pop pop_ , Beau punched, drawing near,

While Veth snuck around to shoot him from the rear.  
  


Caduceus let out a sigh, “Well there goes diplomacy.”

If not for his friends’ chances of dying, he’d return to his tea.  
  


Fjord summoned Star Razor, its runes glowing bright;

May Melora bless him to strike true in this fight.  
  


A mighty cry reverberated as Yasha gripped Magician’s Judge,

Her zealousness inspiring her friends to bring the carnage.  
  


Jester yelled too, for fun, as she summoned unicorn hamsters;

Poor Sprinkle hid away in her hood, so scared that he shivers.  
  


Perplexed, Caleb just watches and wonders how this man got here;

The power needed to break through his spell was surely something to fear.  
  


Despite every punch, swing, and spell they threw at their foe

It was the Mighty Nein who were kept on their toes.  
  


He brushed off and countered each blow that they sent,

Returning thrice as much pain—this guy did not relent!  
  


One by one they were knocked out, falling unconscious,

All because they had been a bit overly cautious.  
  


Hours later they awoke, with nary a scratch, in their own beds.

Once gathered they agreed, that fight hadn’t been just in their heads.

  
Back down the tower they drifted to inspect the fight scene,

To find the banquet and gifts laid out again, all pristine.

  
Déjà vu snapped their attention to check for the stranger,

While Caleb questioned the staff; “No one’s here,” the cats purr.

  
Beau grabbed a goblet and drumstick to check if anything was poisonous;

Detecting no ill traces, she said, “Food’s fine, and pretty delicious.”

  
Cautiously trusting no more tricks were to come,

The Nein feasted and celebrated within the cat sanctum.

  
Then a familiar voice spoke as they opened presents with delight,

“Merry Winter’s Crest, Mighty Nein. Next time, put up a better fight.”


End file.
